Love's Curse
by Maddie-san
Summary: Many centuries ago, Lt. Killian Jones was cursed to Neverland, forced to be Peter Pan's puppet. After years of losses and many attempts to free himself, he failed to break the curse. Pan's task obliges him to find the product of True Love. One problem; she's no longer a child.


**A/N: **Well, there this thing on tumblr, CS AU WEEK, and it inspired me to try my hand at my first CS fic. It might seem like a canon divergence in the beginning but it's not! It's my first time writing these two so let's hope all goes well! Thank you for reading!

**Love's Curse**

**Prologue**

There was no heartbeat. It was extraneous to even press his bruised pale ear to his brother's chest. He had wrested the clothing from his body, baring his tainted flesh to the gentle breeze of the open air but it made no difference. _There was no heartbeat_. He was numb, unable to feel the tears that wet his cheeks, as he held his brother's body closer to his. Gently, he shook him again, hoping, praying, that this time the outcome would diverge.

It did not.

Long ago already, the black veins had climbed all the way to his face, branching out to every surface of his skin and distorting his visage. His short curly light brown hair was soaked, covered in sweat, sticking to his forehead. A few beads of sweat were still rolling down the side of his face, giving the illusion that Liam was in fact alive. _They should have listened_. He should have stopped him. Instead, he let his older brother touch the wretched vine and now he was lost to him.

"Liam," his name left his lips like a lost whisper echoing into the darkness of the night.

"_This might help_."

As the foreign voice tingled through his ears, Killian Jones quickly scampered to his feet while Liam's body remained on the ground. In a hurry, he jumped in front of his brother, his hand hovering the black grip of his sword, ready to unsheathe it in the face of danger. However, as he glanced away, blue eyes darting, he found nothing but dark green bushes and the quietness of the vicinity.

"Reveal yourself," he ordered, ignoring the lack of fierceness in his expression as his eyes remained damped from his shed tears.

"Now, now, I am here to help. There is no need for a _sword_."

Slipping through the bushes, scattering leaves all over the dark brown dirt, an older man made his way to him. His curly grey hair only covered the side of his head, leaving the top of his scalp looking bald. A white scrub was layered over his chin while his busy eyebrows gave him a harsh look. He tugged the corner of his lips into a smile while he took a step forward, his long brown robe dragging across the ground, carrying dirt around.

"Identify yourself," he said, his hand tightening around the handle.

"_Zoso_," he replied with a smirk. "However, some know me as _the dark one_."

"The dark one?"

"I can do a few _magic tricks_," he added with a laugh. He lifted his right arm and then shoved his left hand inside his hanging sleeve.

Immediately, Killian pulled out his sword, the long white sleeves of his shirt blowing freely through the breeze, while he directed the pointy tip of his weapon at his opponent. He did not trust anyone on this island; it was evil. Only something wicked could host such a vile plant. Also, their own _king_ had sent them away on a missing to retrieve a weapon of destruction, endangering their lives. He lost his bearings, not knowing who or what to trust anymore.

Zoso ignored him and recovered a small flask from its hidden place. As he pulled it out the bright green liquid inside began to swish around, splashing against the glass walls of its prison. It was kept locked inside by a cork. "You might want this," he said, rolling the flask in direction of Killian.

Killian raised his foot before stepping on the bottle. He put plenty of pressure to stop its trajectory but not enough to fracture it. He kept his gaze focused, his eyes never leaving the enemy, as he bent down and retrieved it from the ground. He flipped it between his slender fingers, frowning as he did his inspection of the glowing liquid.

"What is this trickery?"

"A remedy." He stepped closer. "For your brother," he completed as he pointed to Liam's body.

He tapped his index against the cork. He did not want to believe this stranger's words. _Lies,_ all of it. _Although_, there was one stranger they refused to believe and it cost him his brother's life. If they had listened to the little boy's words – _Liam would be alive_. Did he truly wish to repeat his previous mistake?

"How?"

A chuckle escaped the old man, a rumble traveling through his chest. "_Magic_."

Long ago, he would have not have believed it to be true – however things were no longer as black and white as they used to be. The Jolly Roger _flew_ into the sky and soared through the white clouds as though it was the shining blue sea. If magic brought them to their knees perhaps it could also rescue them. His eyes traveled from the flask to his brother's body. If he had a chance to save Liam, should he not take it?

There was not a single thing he would not do for his brother.

Killian allowed his sword to drop to the ground, the top burrowed into the dirt, while he ran to his brother's side. He scooped Liam's head, carefully tucking his hand flat against the back of his scalp, and he held it high enough to rest it comfortably against his knee. Then, he brought the flask to his own mouth, sunk his teeth around the cork and pulled it out with a _pop_. He spat it back out and brought the neck of the bottle to Liam's purple lips.

"_Now, now now. _Someone is in a hurry."

His words were enough to stop Killian before the green liquid reached Liam's lips. Had he been right? Had it all been nothing but another spell of trickery?

"All magic comes with a price." He no longer looked like a poor, helpless old man. Shadows formed on his face, revealing the darkness lurking.

He frowned, his blue eyes shining with pain and confusion. His head was spinning; his guts were twisted while waves of nausea rose inside of him like a storm. Desperation was heavy on his face. "A price?" He shook his head. "Of course, whatever you want, it's yours."

The smirk on Zoso's face grew, a tingle of excitement pulsing through his blood. The rush, the need, the power. Some days, it grew tiresome but during moments like this one, it fuelled him, powered him like a drug, leaving him hopeless like a puppet having its strings pulled.

"You are in luck, your brother is not dead _yet_."

"_What_?"

Zoso dragged himself closer to Killian, a limp in his walk finally showing. "I froze him. There is breath left in him. If he were dead the price would be a life for a life." He crunched his nose. "_A bit steep_, don't you think?" He grinned, showing his yellow teeth, half of them rotten to a disgusting brown color.

"_What_ is the price you speak of?" _Liam_ was alive. There was time, there was hope. Although his mind was racing; he thought the man wanted _money_, luxury. Now, he was no longer sure.

"His memories," Zoso said as he picked up Liam's hand from the ground, his plump fingers touching, searching for his wrist. "He shall not remember you. If he does, he will die for real this time."

"I fear I do not understand."

"Your brother must not remember you. He cannot see you again. You can never speak with him."

"Very well, then." There was no hesitation in Killian's voice. Liam was all the family he had left; he would be all alone. Regardless, the price was a cheap one if it meant Liam got to live a full life. The price would be a burden he would carry around each day as he would remember his brother and the life they used to have.

"_Proceed_," Zoso suggested while gesturing to the flask.

Killian took a deep breath while he gripped the bottle tightly, his knuckles turning white. Beads of sweat formed along the edge of his upper lip and the racing of his heart made his knees weak. Fear was grappling at him, nearly paralyzing him. And yet, he found the strength to pus the glass against Liam's mouth and slowly began to pour the liquid down his throat.

At first, nothing happened. Panic flashed through his eyes and he was ready to put his sword through Zoso's chest. Fortunately, before the fight even began, the black veins overshadowing his brother's face began to slightly fade away. Tears slide down the edge of his cheeks, relief flowing through him as he tipped his head forward, unable to fight the smile that tugged at his lips.

_Liam was alive_. "Brother?" he tried, but Liam was not conscious enough yet. It was best this way was it not? He would not even remember him.

"He shall enjoy his life here in Neverland."

A few words. It was all it took to break Killian's joy into pieces and send his happiness spiralling down. _His life here_? "What is this foolishness you speak of?"

"It is the curse. The curse of the healing water. If your brother is to live, he has to remain here."

He grinded his teeth, the muscles of his jaw quivering with his short, puffed breath he took. He tried to hide his weakness, the one slowly growing inside of him. This was not the mission, this was not how it was all meant to end. He wanted to fall apart, never to be whole again, but he tried to put on a façade – for Liam. "This was not part of our deal."

"Did I forget to mention that little detail?" He smiled. "Oops." He bounced lightly on his toes, his lips twitching as he tried to control his facial expression.

Killian's eyes hardened, the rage boiling inside of him finally released. He let his brother's head hit the ground, while he bolted to his feet and retrieved his sword from the ground. His hands were shaking, his wrath controlling his every movement, but he managed to grasp a firm hold around the handle of his sword. He hid the inexperience in his footing along with lack of control on his own emotions. He was never so _violent_. The blade cut through the air, the tip grazing against Zoso's chin.

"Foolish child. You cannot kill me – not with this blade."

"I shall take my chances."

The hatred swirling in his heart was new; he wanted blood, he wanted revenge. His brother was alive but he was lost to him. Not only that but he was supposed to live with the fact that his brother would remain _here_, on this cursed island, with no memories? He would fight for him, fight for an answer. However, he was honourable. It was the only reason he had not let his sword slash through the old man's neck.

The words _the dark one_ meant nothing to him. He knew the bastard spoke of magic but he did not know the extend of his power. He would not fight someone who was defenseless, despite his state of choler. It was also why he _needed_ Zoso to draw a sword or do _anything_ that might be considered an attack. He needed this. He needed to find a way to push away the pain, the tears.

"I can make you a deal."

"I have had enough of your _deals_." He drove his sword further, almost breaking the skin. "I will not fight unless you fight me back."

"I shall switch the curses," Zoso spoke, completely calm. He wished a sword like this one could mean the end of his life but it was not enough. He needed a very specific dagger and he needed the right person. That foolish boy was not it; he would not be the one to free him. It did not mean he would pass up the opportunity to revel in some much needed distraction and fun.

"Your brother may go free – without any memories. _But you stay here_ in his place."

Liam was a captain, the pride of the fleet, entrusted with all the missions and the shiny new vessel. Killian was his brother. There was nothing else, no other words that could describe him. He was honourable and he followed his brother around since he was a babe. Nobody needed him – except Liam…but he would not remember him.

His stomach rolled, his heartbeat sluggish. The grip of his sword was loosening and though he had yet to speak the words, he already knew the answer. He shuddered, letting his arm fall to his side. The blade clanged against the ground and left a dent in the dirt as he dragged it back. He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing and Killian stared dead ahead, refusing to glance at his brother.

He could not see his face, he could not take a chance that he might open his eyes.

"Deal." The word squeezed at his heart but he never even tried to take it back.

Zoso's cheeks dimpled and the corner of his eyes wrinkled as he raised a hand to snap his fingers together. As soon as the sound was nothing more than an echo in the night, a flash blinded Killian. The next time he opened his blue eyes, he already knew something was missing. His heart sank and he turned around, forced to face the truth; Liam was gone.

"I am simply supposed to believe he is safe?" What if they hurt him? What if his brother was dead and not alive? He never even had the chance to see him wake up.

"I never break deals," he said, his tone a bit more sinister this time. "I have no reason to lie. I do not even benefit from your presence."

"My presence?" Killian asked, his eyes looking at the empty ground where a faint imprint of his brother's body remained.

"You are cursed here, you belong to your new master."

This time, Zoso had his full attention. Killian's ears twitched and he tilted his head to the left, looking straight at the man who both ruined his life and saved his brother's.

"Master?"

Except, there was no one behind him and his question fell on empty ears. Panic sore through him, blood racing, as he began running around, his sword in his hands, attempting to find Zoso.

"He's long gone."

In the blink of an eye, he found himself bumping into another human being. The surprise and force of the hit sent him flying on the ground, his rear softening the blow. Dirty flew around, staining the whiteness of his clothes. He could feel his ponytail loosening, threatening to free his long lock of hair.

In front of him stood a boy. _The same one who warned them about the plant_. His brown hair was sleeked back while his green eyes shone with malice. He appeared much more innocent during their first meeting – though it had been brief. _Why was he here?_

"He meant me." The boy said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Peter Pan. I'm your new master."

He was not entirely certain if it was the stress, the rage or the pain, but a sinister chuckle escaped his throat. "You are not my master, boy." He was a mere child.

Pan's eyes twinkled and his lips curved upwards. A soft, quiet scoff slipped past him and then, all Killian knew was that his world was made of pain and agony. He brought both hands to his head, holding it, trying to shut away the torment pulsing through his brain. No matter what he did, the pain never ceased. Screams of torture were torn from his mouth as he thrashed on the ground.

"I think I am."

Once he was certain Killian learned his lesson, he waved his hand, taking away the agony. He watched in pleasure while Killian attempted to control himself, his breathing rushed and panicked. He had tugged so violently at his hair that the band holding them together fell upon the ground. Strands of black hair were flying in every direction, sweat coating the surface of his scalp.

"Don't worry, I won't ask much of you. Though, I do have a mission for you."

Pan smiled, his lips stretching fully. _Finally_; he found an answer to his problem. Time might not run out for him after all. He tugged on his green leather top and slid a pale hand inside to retrieve a piece of parchment. It was carefully rolled, a tiny string of golden straw holding it together. He handed it to Killian who took it with a hesitant hand.

"What is this?"

"A map. You see, I need you to find someone." He popped his lips. "Someone very important."

"Who?"

"I'm not sure."

"How in the world do you expect me to find them then?"

"Easy. Find the product of true love."

Pan raised his arm and then began waving his hand around. Before Killian could even ask what was happening, a dark green smoke began to form around them, enveloping them fully. The smoke entered his lungs, cutting his air supply and leaving him breathless. A spell of dizziness wrapped around his head. He blinked briefly and suddenly they were on the shore again, the waves gently brushing up against the sand.

And the Jolly Roger was there.

Floating there, empty, void of any man – including his brother. The sight was enough to stab him with pain as he was forced to look at everything he lost.

"Every pirate ship needs a captain. You've been upgraded_, lieutenant._"

-TL-


End file.
